


I Always Cry at Weddings

by Ill_Tempered_Clavier



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst, Dark Crack, F/M, Why did I even?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-18
Updated: 2017-08-18
Packaged: 2018-12-16 17:17:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11833380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ill_Tempered_Clavier/pseuds/Ill_Tempered_Clavier
Summary: Brienne never really thought about her wedding day...and she certainly had never imagined it would be like this. (Please mind the tags.)





	I Always Cry at Weddings

“I can’t figure out: did you dream about your wedding day as a girl or not?”

Brienne subtly wipes the lone, heavy tear tracking down her cheek and takes a deep breath. She is in her wedding finery after all and oh, how if nothing else, she is glad to see Septa Mordane eat her words even if the lady herself cannot. Here Brienne stands on her wedding day wearing the maiden cloak handed down by her father’s family to a man who understands her worth and wants her for herself. …And if he appreciates the extra value that Tarth brings to the marriage bed, well, she can’t blame him. He wants it all. He has made it _quite_ plain he quite wants it _all_. 

“When I was very young, yes.” Her eyes are far off, her smile self-deprecating. His meet hers as they drift back to him on the tide, his smile also wry, but understanding; they hold a minute, friendly-like. It helps her center herself. “I had once hoped that some someday I would meet a worthy knight who would see me for myself, who would want me enough…regardless.”

Their eyes catch again, and his smile is as sad and soft as hers. It almost looks strange on his face. “I once thought that fighting bravely would make my name, give me a beautiful lady, and a castle.” 

Their eyes still holding both turn in wry amusement. Her head tilts, expression considering. “Well, at least you got a name and the castle.”

“Yes, but I also got a fucking island, a wife who can beat the shit out of anyone who crosses her, and won’t abide fools.”

This makes her laugh as he had hoped, as rare and free as he imagines she must has laughed as a girl. He is quite fond of her. They’ve been through frozen hell and back. They know each other better than damn near anyone else still breathing these days and oddly enough, they find themselves comforted in this awkward moment. 

When he’d found her cradling Jaime’s cooling body in her arms near frozen, the war—if not the battle—was possibly won but she was unmoving. When he’d roared at her to live to avenge him, she jumped almost vertically, like she’d been pinched, but then just nodded, grasped Oathkeeper, and let loose the most primeval roar he’d ever heard…and he’d heard dragons attack before. The Walkers didn’t stand a chance. She brought down the Night King herself just as the dragons descended to put an end to the fighting for good.

He helped her carry him back. 

Tryion took over at the gate although Pod insisted on helping with his armor and sword. Unsure what to do with Widow’s Wail, his brother had it stowed but stood the full vigil with his goodsister (for all intents and purposes he knew she was such) for the whole seven days along with Pod.

When Brienne finally staggered out of the makeshift sept, Bronn was waiting and handed her a skin of wine, waving off her protestations. “You need it.” The plain look on his face and lack of platitudes made her take it gratefully. Given the circumstances, he almost seemed trustworthy. She’d had to listen to so many pretty, well-meaning lies that this raw truth was refreshing. It’s what Jaime would have given her, had always given her.

Then she found herself few disjointed weeks later, long enough to be seemly to some, that Brienne before the Dragon Queen who demanded she bend the knee again and take a loyal man to husband. Tryion wouldn’t meet her eyes. She knew he did not like this at all, but neither did he speak up.

Even with her service, inheritance, and…favor…of the queen, only a few viable bachelors presented themselves. She was both surprised and not to have Bronn pay her court. It was plainspoken as himself: as Tyrion’s loyal man, he was remotely acceptable from the court’s position seeing as he was due a lordship in his own right. He knew her as fighter. He knew how she felt about Jaime, was generous about relaying what Jaime felt about her, and was clear about his own rather personal opinions of her.

It could be worse. She’d had nobler suitors, but somehow their subtle aristocratic insults were far harder to bear than Bronn’s coarse, blunt observations.

She thought back to Lord Tarly, to Renly, to Ronn Connington, to the others and considered current events. Bronn certainly appreciated her lands, but he also appreciated her strong arm (and backside, to listen to him). With her father dead, with Jaime dead, she felt trapped. She could defy the Dragon Queen for a time she was sure—Tarth was small enough and she unimportant enough, but if her people would have a future, she would have to submit. Tyrion would probably run interference for a while if he had to for his late brother’s sake and her own…but how long? 

After all these years, all the things she’d done, the battles she’d fought and won, the oaths she’d kept and the quests she had realized, she would still have to submit to the marriage bed.

 _Fucking hell,_ as her husband-to-be would say. 

Bronn levels with her. “Listen, we’re both going to need to give her a reason to let us live. Even after all of this shit—ongoing civil war, Cersei, the White Walkers—all the fighting we’ve done to save the Seven fucking Kingdoms, we’re going to have to give her another reason to let us live. You have a name and a fucking island. You need heirs. I was promised a title and a castle and a woman by both fucking Lannisters, and the short fucker is now her Hand. I know what you’re worth. You’re a noble lady by birth, but fuck if can’t you fight. I won’t keep a sword out of your hand. I won’t expect you to sew shit or plan feasts. That’s what gold is for.” 

He pauses, expression turning serious and frank.

“I know what you lost. I know he loved you. I know you still love him. I won’t deny it or make you feel bad about it. I’ll tell you what I know about him, what he said about you—and what he didn’t say even because he was such a fucking stupid cunt sometimes. Hells, you’re probably the most trustworthy person I’ve ever met—and he told me that, and while he was a dumb sisterfucker, he did know a few things after all.”

Brienne’s deep blue eyes have gone still meeting his own shrewd, grey gaze and glaze over ever so lightly with unshed tears.

“I know he’d want to be here in my place and you want him here, but seeing as that’s not possible, will you do me the honor, milady? I will gladly bed you on our wedding night—I’ve had enough practice to make sure you get some enjoyment out of it all. I’d be happy to have a go even if none of this shit was going on if you were willing. Pod’d tell you as much, I’ve said it often enough these past years.”

Brienne forces herself to think past her horrified realization that apparently Bronn has talked about wanting to fuck her with _Podrick_ of all people and for _years apparently_ and reflects that although this is not the wedding she wanted with the man she wanted, it could be so much worse. Thinking about her people, about her family, she concludes that the dryness in her mouth is not ashes: she knows what actual ashes taste like by now so she takes his arm as they walk down the aisle of the sept and gets ready to start her new life as Evenstar with a lord consort, hand on Oathkeeper’s pommel, imagining it’s Jaime’s golden hand instead, walking with her.

**Author's Note:**

> Why did I even write this? I don't even know. I blame my malaise on how GoT is destroying Jaime beyond reason this season. As much as I actually like Cersei being smarter (because smart villain is always more interesting than a stupid one) and Brienne more badass (because BRI), his character deserves better and it would be great if it didn't have to suffer for these changes.
> 
> :flounces off to read some fluff:


End file.
